


Gangster Falls

by clockworkdream



Series: Gravity Falls || Gangster AU [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - FBI, Drug Use, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, Human Trafficking, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Three Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-02-17 06:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13070622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkdream/pseuds/clockworkdream
Summary: The Pines and Ciphers both fight for control over the bustling, lawless city of Gravity Falls.The infamous Pines Dynastyseemsto be the obvious choice compared to Cipher's relatively new gang. But with fresh meat in Gravity Falls the tables are turning, and who's going to win is anyone's guess.





	1. Emphasis On The Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel Pines find themselves in the enigmatic city of Gravity Falls. New and uneducated, they're completely unprepared to bare witness to the seedy underbelly the city possesses. But then again, Dipper _was_ always a sucker for criminal mystery.

_ Journal one, page one _

_ Gravity Falls is a dangerous place, too dangerous to go unmonitored. This journal is to document the people and things that go on here. (PS. Don’t let this go to your head, Stanley) _

_ Part One - Stanley Pines, “Underboss”. _

* * *

 

Dipper pressed closer to his sister as they walked through the rain-slicked city streets, pulling his hoodie closer around him and pulling his hat down farther on his head.

Mabel, on the other hand, walked like she would in any other weather, besides the fact she was occasionally sticking her tongue out to taste the rain water and dropping her frog umbrella to trail behind her rather than properly cover her body and her suitcase from the rain. (Dipper was  _ too much of a man _ to take the frog umbrella from her and use it himself.)

“This stuff is probably acidic, Mabel. You shouldn’t be drinking it.” Dipper grumbled, looking up to see the gross, light-polluted sky. This city was so much different than the Oregon wilderness that they’d had to drive through to get here, and Dipper almost missed the sound of nature. He would definitely trade the rush of cars and beating of rain on metal for the woods any day. But that wasn’t much of an option.

Great Uncle Stanford was expecting them, and everyone in the Pines family knew that when  _ Stanford _ expected you, you showed up. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. 

Dipper just really wished his mom hadn’t told him to expect Mabel, too.

No one knew what Great Uncle (or Grunkle, as Mabel had said) Stan did for a living, all they knew was that he was rich and old, and everyone in the family wanted their share of his inheritance when he croaked, and to do so people attempted to keep in touch. Aunts and uncles would send cousins off and on, and most of the kids came back telling horror stories but were otherwise unscathed.

Then there was the one time that the kid didn’t come back, but Dipper’s mom insisted before pushing him and Mabel onto the bus that “they never sent that poor kid at all, he probably died before they even thought to send him to Stan’s. They’re just trying to scare us away”. That statement was followed by a chaste kiss to the temple and a goodbye, before the bus started driving and Dipper was left with sixteen hours of bus ride before he got to some musty city in the middle of Oregon, with  _ great nightlife!  _ as the signs on their way into town boasted.

Mabel finally stopped walking, pulling Dipper out of his thoughts and forcing him to take in their poor surroundings again. However, there was something new. In front of them stood a club, a strip club if Dipper took the  _ girls, girls, girls _ sign into account. There was a neon sign that flashed the words  _ Mystery Shack  _ in a rainbow of colors, although the  _ S _ kept flashing on and off, almost in tune with the building shaking from bass.

Mabel grinned a toothy, newly-free-of-braces grin. “This is it!” She turned to look at Dipper. “I didn’t know Grunkle Stan had a club! That’s so cool!” 

“... yeah, ‘cool’.” Dipper said, stuffing one hand into his pocket and using the other to open the door.

The noise only got louder when Dipper opened the door, and he quickly laced his fingers with Mabel’s to lead her through the club, not wanting her to get lost or hurt.

It was definitely a strip club. Women stood in cages and on stage, dancing for men of various ages and ethnicities and a few women as well. Shielding his eyes and employing his wonderful gift of tunnel vision, Dipper led Mabel past a group of particularly sleazy men to a swinging door labeled  _ employees only _ . 

Stepping in, Dipper came face-to-face with a long-legged ginger girl in a wife beater and a ponytail. Her arms were covered in tattoos and a few scars, and she held a severe presence. She practically emanated  _ do not fuck with me _ . Dipper was in love.

Mabel elbowed him, gesturing to another door beyond this one, which was blocked off by a chubby, hispanic man who looked the exact opposite of what Dipper would’ve expected walking in here, especially comparative to the girl. 

The two seemed to look up at the exactly same time, and both had the same thing to say, albeit the man much nicer than the girl: “Who are you?”

Mabel answered before Dipper could even get a good grasp on the situation. “Mabel and Dipper Pines! We’re here to see our Grunkle Stan!”

The man’s face lit up. “Oh, welcome!” He said happily, shifting aside and pushing the door open slightly. “Name’s Soos. Stan’s been expecting you. He seems real excited.” The girl, instead of adding anything, just waved her fingers, not even bothering to raise her hand all the way to do it.

Dipper nodded a thanks in both their directions before he went through the door, head ducked down slightly. This didn’t seem like a good idea, or any sort of place fit for Mabel. Everything made him feel extremely uneasy, and this odd man and guarded door didn’t help.

The room was dark when the door was open, but it lit up as soon as Dipper’s foot hit carpet. It was quieter than the club floor. Significantly roomier, also, Dipper thought with a relieved sigh. The walls were littered with paintings of various, similar-looking men, and at the far back wall there was an even larger painting of a man Dipper only sort of recognized from his grandfather’s pictures: Stanford Pines, the one and only. And right in front of that painting sat the man himself, even more intimidating than Dipper expected. His glasses were glared to a blank white and even with it Dipper could tell he and Mabel were being watched with some serious indifference. 

“So, you’re Shermy’s grandkids, huh?” His voice was raspy. He sounded like he’d smoked more cigarettes in a week than Dipper had or would see in a lifetime.

Dipper nodded slowly, his fingers still intertwined with Mabel’s. He didn’t dare let go, not right now. “Yeah. We’re here from California. Our mom told us you’d know.”

Stanford scratched his chin and nodded also. “Yeah, yeah. Mason and Mabel.” His tone seemed light and genuine, far from the tone Dipper expected from a man like him.

“Dipper, actually!” Mabel chirped, moving towards the desk and dragging Dipper behind her. “Mabel and Dipper Pines.” 

The closer they got, the better they could see Stan’s face. His eyes weren’t half lidded or narrowed, as Dipper had thought, but instead open and almost inviting, which was more than Dipper hoped for. “Pines. Finally,  _ finally _ , they send me some genuine Pines kids.” Stan laughed a hearty laugh and stood, pulling the kids into a tight hug.

Dipper stiffened in surprise whereas Mabel just hugged him back, happy to oblige with this new relative of theirs. Mabel was always one for hugs at family reunions, and since this was really no different, Dipper almost understood the fact she was hugging back.

But not really, because Stan smelled like cigarette smoke (which made his voice make a bit more sense), sweat, and another smell (a mix of coffee and skunk) Dipper didn’t recognize but wrinkled his nose at regardless. It was unpleasant to be this close to him and Dipper finally let out a _ let’s be done now  _ and pushed at his chest gently.

Stan set them both down, messing up Mabel’s hair and decisively pulling off Dipper’s hat. “This won’t do, kiddo.” He said. Dipper pet his hair down quickly over his forehead, face falling. 

“But I need my hat, it-”

“It does nothing a different one can’t do, kid. I’ll get you another one, alright? One to remind you that you’re a Pines. Just the name’ll get you most things in this city.” Stan said, shrugging and heading out of the room. Mabel followed close to his heels and Dipper hesitated, before jamming his hands into his pockets and grumbling behind them.

Stan was leading them up a dingy, fragile-looking staircase. When he stepped on it there was a groan of resistance, but he continued up anyway. Mabel kept by his heels, her suitcase’s wheels clicking on each step. Dipper was glad he just had his messenger bag. Less chance of putting more stress on these stairs than necessary.

When they got upstairs completely, it began looking more like a house. Sure, you could still hear the sound of music and people talking, but it was more of a faint murmur now. Dipper found it to be almost pleasant, at least compared to the ear-splitting nightmare of downstairs.

Stan sighed and stopped in front of a room with an older looking door. “Here you go, kids. Your room.”

Mabel went inside before Stan even finished the sentence, leaving Dipper and Stan alone in the hallway. “Kid, I know your type,” Stan started. “And that means I need to ask you one thing: listen to me.”

Dipper stared up at him, eyes wide. The darkness of the hallway cast ominous shadows on Stan’s face, and Dipper sank down slightly at the sight. “Listen to you? Why? What?”

Stan placed a large hand on his shoulder. “Just listen to me. That’s all I ask.” His voice was significantly colder than before. “Don’t snoop. This is your room. You stay in it unless you get told otherwise, capiche?” Dipper nodded and hurried inside, curled up around himself slightly.

He was pretty sure this trip just took a turn for the worst

* * *

 

The room wasn’t that bad, surprisingly. It was dark and dreary, but Mabel insisted she could lighten it up with a couple of new sheets and some posters. 

Dipper listened to her talk about what she was going to do, sitting with his knees to his chest on the bed. 

“And once I’m done, I’ll-” Mabel cut herself off, looking over at him. “Are you okay, Dipper?”

Dipper shrugged a little bit. “Yeah. Just bored I guess.”

“Well, then let’s go look around! It’s only like.. six, I think.” Mabel glanced out the window. It was only starting to get dark, which meant, by Mabel’s code of honor, that they could- and should- go outside.

“I don’t want to go back out in this weather, Mabel.”

Mabel flashed him a wide, happy grin. “Who said anything about going outside?”

Dipper looked at her, surprised she’d even suggest such a thing. “Mabel, we are  _ not _ going to go through his house. That’s just looking for trouble. This place is already unsafe to be in as it is.”

“Oh c’mon, Dipper. Be nice.” Mabel chastised. “Grunkle Stan has been really sweet so far!”

“Mabel, we’re in sleeping above a strip club.” Dipper said, sounding almost exasperated. 

“Yeah? So what? If those ladies want to work here, they can! There’s nothing wrong with that.” Mabel argued. 

“Well- This isn’t a place for kids.” 

“What happened to being “ _practically_ _adults_ ”?” She asked, doing air quotes.

“It’s different when I say that at school!” Dipper crossed his arms, face going red. “I say that so we can hang out with seniors,  _ not _ so you can argue it’s okay for us to live in a strip club for four months.”

“It won’t hurt anything. I’ve seen worse in your internet history.” Mabel teased, causing Dipper to go even redder. “Anyway, I’m gonna go look around. You can come with or you can stay here. I’m going either way.” She said. 

She walked out the door, and before Dipper knew it his legs were carrying himself behind her to the end of the hall. There was a door, larger than theirs and covered in a pattern of ridges shaped like triangles. Dipper ran his fingers over it as he walked past, curious. 

The room was pitch black. The only light that came from it was the dim light from the hallway. Annoyed, Dipper dug through his messenger bag, glad he hadn’t left it in the room. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it into the room.

His flashlight lit up the entirety of the small room. There were a couple boxes and random devices Dipper didn’t care to look at. He headed towards the boxes, Mabel doing the same on the opposite side. 

He took a minute to finally decide what to open, but he chose a box marked  _ F _ and started digging. Via his digging, Dipper found a couple of things. A journal, two gun magazines, the gun he assumed they belonged to, and - most peculiarly - a worn and chipped FBI badge. Dipper frowned, pocketing the badge, picking up the journal, and leaning away from the box. He turned his flashlight towards Mabel. 

She’d already left. 

Unease digging into his stomach, Dipper cursed under his breath and hurried out of the room to find her. He knew she must be okay, but this whole situation was just getting weirder and weirder and he didn’t want to risk anything.

He skidded to a stop in front of their new room. Opening the door, he found no sign of Mabel. However, there was a hat on his bed, blue and white with a small pine tree on the front. Dipper looked the hat over, before putting it onto his head. A new hat was a new hat, even if it meant that Great Uncle Stan knew that he’d gone snooping despite his warnings.

There were steps behind him.

“Mabel?” He asked, turning around to come face to face with a gun. Dipper flipped, throwing the the journal up in the air and screaming loudly. He turned pink out of embarrassment when Mabel started giggling.

“I actually scared you!” She said, sounding surprised. “It’s a taser gun, look.” She turned the gun, offering it out to Dipper on its side.

Dipper shook his head before bending down to pick up the journal again, holding it to his chest. “I’d rather not touch that. And you shouldn’t, either. It’s dangerous.”

“I think Grunkle Stan left it for me, though.” She said, flipping it around in her hands. “He did say he was going to give you a new hat, and he did! He probably wanted to give me something too.” She pointed the gun, shooting it at the wall. It connected with a  _ bzzt _ , falling to the ground after a moment. It left a small black burn on the wood. A smile crawled across Mabel’s face. “That’s so cool!”

Dipper just narrowed his eyes at the burn. “Don’t shoot that at anyone.” He mumbled, before turning and plopping down on his bed. He connected to the bed with a soft sigh, pulling his new hat down over his forehead and flipping open the journal.

A torn piece of paper sat on the inside of the cover.

_ Property of Agent F. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyo!! thanks for reading the first chapter. this is my first gravity falls fanfic so please give me some feedback in the comments on my characterization or just the au in general. maybe tell me if i should continue this or not!
> 
> thank you very much for reading.
> 
> (ps, the title is a working title. i have no idea what to actually call the fanfic for now)


	2. Journal 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper has found his summer project, but at the cost of his Great Uncle's trust. How unfortunate.

_ Journal one, page three _

_ Part two - Fiddleford H. McGucket, “Consigliere” and partner. _

_ McGucket is undercover along with myself. I expect him to be a great deal better at blending in than Stanley. (Yes, Stanley. I am saying you are terrible at hiding, especially in plain sight.) But I say that only because if he isn’t both he and I are, pardon my french, royally fucking screwed. _

* * *

 

The journal was the weirdest thing Dipper had seen in a long time.

To start, the journal was worn and wrinkled, but even underneath the wear and tear you could see that it once was rather professional looking; black and leatherbound with a brand of a three on the front. Underneath the name on the inside cover there was a paper full of fingerprints. Six of them for each hand. Besides that confusing nonsense, the journal proper was even more confusing.

Half of it was written in so many different codes and ciphers it made Dipper’s head spin, and the parts that weren’t were just data on  _ people _ . Normal people. And when he said normal people, he meant normal people. It was page after page after page of  _ nonviolent _ and  _ no gang history _ . Most of them looked like people you couldn’t even pick out of a crowd of two. The last names seemed to be the only thing that were really expanded upon. Expanded upon meant a list of every human being who held that last name and also happened to live in Gravity Falls.

It was so odd. Paranoid, even. Keeping track of all these people seemed pointless and redundant. If they aren’t -or  _ weren’t _ \- a threat, why write them down at all? Dipper found it perplexing, and decidedly pushed on to see if there was any sort of reasoning to support the madness.

It took about six hours and three energy drinks he’d snuck in his bag, but Dipper got through the entire journal in one sitting.

He’d long since pulled out a blue pen, circling names he recognized (recognized meaning names that had been mentioned before and were easy enough to decipher) and writing occasional notes in the margins. Light had started to shine through the window, showing that Dipper missed quite a bit of writing in faint (erased?) pencil. 

And so, it was right back through again.

* * *

 

Dipper didn’t remember falling asleep, nor did he really remember waking up. He just remember Mabel shaking him, and his groggy response of  _ I’ll be up in a minute _ . 

Then he remembered wiping the drool off his face and trying to deal with his soggy shirt, and now he was sitting at a table in a new shirt. On the table there were three plates, and a very large stack of pancakes in the center. Mabel sat across from him, talking idly with the person in the kitchen.

The person in the kitchen was their Great Uncle Stan, but he wasn’t dressed in the suit Dipper remembered him in from last night. Now he was just wearing a tanktop and boxers. His entire body seemed to be covered in tattoos and hair, as far as Dipper could tell. Once he tuned into the conversation, he realized Mabel was actually asking questions about said tattoos.

“So, didya get them all at once or was it more like a weekly thing?” Mabel asked, tapping her fork against the wood of the table.

“More like a yearly thing, really.” Stan said. “As I say, tattoos are supposed to mean something, not just be mindless drawings.” It sounded less like he was quoting himself and more like he was quoting someone he really didn’t appreciate. Dipper’s eyes narrowed slightly at the thought. “ I’ve seen plenty of kids get ‘em without a second thought of what they were doing. It’s a real disappointment, I’ll tell you.”

Mabel nodded. “I’ve always thought tattoos were really awesome. I think no matter what you get it’ll mean something to you, since you got it in the first place, though.” Mabel shrugged a little bit. “But I guess that’s just me.”

Stan made a  _ hm _ noise. “Well, if you think tattoos are… uh, what’d you say? Awesome? Anyway, anyway, were you planning on getting any?” He turned his head towards her, raising an eyebrow.

“Not planning on  _ getting _ , but I’ve definitely drawn out a couple of designs that I like!” She gasped suddenly, shooting up out of her chair. “Wait here, I’ll go get my scrapbook!” She hurried out of the room and towards the hallway, leaving Stan and Dipper alone once again.

Dipper shifted in his seat, watching as Mabel disappeared from his field of vision. 

Stan cleared his throat, pulling Dipper’s attention onto him. “So, kid. How d’you like the new hat?” He didn’t sound as terse as he had when he and Dipper originally spoke while they were alone.

Dipper offered him a nervous smile. “I- I uh, I like it. It’s cool.”

“Yeah? Good.” Stan nodded, looking around the room for a moment before looking back at Dipper. His expression had hardened again. So much for the lack of terseness. “Listen, kid. I know you didn’t take what I said last night seriously, but I mean it. Whatever you found- or  _ think _ you found. Leave it be. It’s better for everyone.”

Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, uh, you got it Great Uncle Stan. Mabel wanted to go and I-”

“Don’t start with excuses.” Stan said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “I don’t care what reason you had for snooping. I told you one thing, and you didn’t listen.”

Dipper took a deep breath and started back on eating his food. God, he was screwed. If he wasn’t  _ just _ screwed, he was dead. Although death might be preferable to spending the summer with angry Stan.

Before Dipper knew it, Mabel was back. She and Stan quickly got into a conversation about tattoos, and that made Dipper’s life significantly easier. He could avoid conversation with either of them, which really killed two birds with one stone (considering that Mabel was extremely talkative at this time in the morning). 

Sure, he felt a little left out not being able to talk to his sister a little like they normally would at the breakfast table, but that was fine. He had a journal to think about, or rather theorize about. That was at least enough to occupy his thoughts away from the angry great uncle and too-excited sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! hopefully this delivers on whatever my readers would like. i know this updates slowly but it's kind of difficult to get where i need to go, so chapters may be short so i can at least get words down on paper!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, comment if you really enjoyed it!


End file.
